this 21st century breakdown
by chocolate cake with sprinkles
Summary: i started writing this after i listened to the whole 21 century breakdown album begining to end so it's about Christian and Gloria. i listened to Jesus of Suburbia right before it so he reoccurs throughout the story. hope you like it!
1. our song of the century

Gloria lay awake. She found it hard to sleep on nights like this. Rain pounded on the roof so hard she waited to feel drops on her forehead or the back of her neck. They wouldn't come no matter how much she wanted them to. She felt it was the corruption's chance to say sorry. Of course, it never would but, unlike the charlatans, she gave it more chances than a brokenhearted girl could think to give.

Someone cares, she thought and began thinking of a poem she heard a long time ago

_Sing us the Song of the Century_

_That's louder than bombs and eternity_

_Era of static and contraband_

_Leading us into the Promised Land_

_Tell me a story that's by candlelight_

_Waging a war and losing the fight_

She couldn't remember the rest. But it was true to the Underground, they were waging a war against the corruption and constantly losing the fight.

----

Christian found his way to an alley. The pouring rain was spilling chills down his back. He couldn't sleep in fear he would wake up without shoes, a coat, and an extra pair of jeans (which he stole from the salvation army).

He remembered the second half to a song that he heard some guy singing.

_They're singing the Song of the Century_

_Panic an promise and prosperity _

_Tell me a story into that goodnight_

_Sing us a song for me_

Christian knew just how full of shit that song was for people like him. People who ran away from nothing so that they could find something (though in the end they just got more nothing). There sure as hell was panic but no promise or prosperity if you lived on the streets. And nobody in their right fucking mind would tell you a goodnight story or sing you a lullaby.

_Nobody cares,_ Christian decided. _Nobody!_


	2. this 21st century breakdown

Christian was looking all over California for someone willing to help him. He needed help to reek havoc and mass destruction. He asked as many people as he could find. Finally, someone answered his question.

"Excuse me, do you know know anyone who can start a riot in three minutes flat and keep it going for about seven hours?" Christian asked. He hated to be a picky asshole but weak riots were easily broken up with bullets. He knew this truth too fucking well.

"Yeah, I know someone like that. Funny, he almost fits the bill too perfectly. Just ask a runaway kid who his savior is."

So Christian had been walking for what seemed four goddamn hours when he found a kid (thirteen or something like that) who was an obvious pothead. The kid was drinking something alcoholic. _Nice try, retard, covering the smell of something really illegal with the smell of something still illegal,_ Christian thought.

"Hey kid!" he yelled. The young pothead's red eyes popped and he almost made a run for it. "nah, you can calm down, I'm not a badge. Bit if I were, I'd be pretty goddamn suspicious. Don't be too conspicuous."

The kid started to smile in relief and gratitude. "Thanks dude I'll remember that," and he was about to leave when Christian stopped him

"Wait kid, who's your savior?"

"Can't stop. Follow me if you wanna see 'im."

_Great, running. Four goddamn hours on foot and now, dammit!,_ was all he could think until he followed the kid under a bridge.

"Hey Jesus! Some guy wants to see you. Don't worry, he's not a badge."

"Of course he's not, retard! You would never actually manage to get out of a fucking situation like that on your own." and then Jesus of Suburbia stepped out of the shadows.

"So you're the famous Jesus of Suburbia. Should I be out of my fucking mind or scared shitless?" Christian asked neither seriously or mockingly. "I need your help. A little riot business."

"Why should I help _you_?"

"Do you have any idea how fucked up my life is because of those bastards? My life was hell! I lived off welfare for my entire life! Goddamn cops chased me for existing and everyone else was brainwashed. So I had to be venomous, I had to watch people get killed. Those bastards said it was people like me that caused 9/11. I sleep on the streets because breaking and entering means certain death. Those bastards don't give a shit for the class of '13 or the bad economy so why the fuck are they making the rules? I'm no one to them, just the long-lost son of another loser. They're called heroes but they're all just retarded cons! They don't care who's still alive and died yesterday. Meanwhile I've been working my ass off for the country. I stole razors to help me escape my life and I dug my own grave! Freedom and liberty is a joke to them! They won't care if someone mugs me so forget sleeping every night! And the worst part? The population is buying all this bull shit the government's throwing!"

"Wow. I wasn't expecting a full speech. I have to agree with you and the brutal honesty. I only have one requirement--"

"ratlain?" Christian asked mockingly while tossing an almost full jar of those goddamn pills.

Jesus of Suburbia took his cell phone out and started dialing numbers. He put the phone to his ear and said, "Calling the disciples!"

----

Gloria was putting a protest together, and recruiting members of the Underground to help. Gloria loved protesting for some unknown reason. Maybe it was because her parents died while protesting. Maybe she wanted to prove she would stand up for what she believed in. She didn't know.

She did know that America was full of idiots and half the time it wasn't their fault they were idiots. It was the corruption. The corruption didn't care about the people it effected. The corruption didn't care unless those people started trouble. Even then, they all just went to jail.

Gloria knew they needed a catchy chant, better yet a song. Something simple and easy to remember. Something that pointed out the obvious and yet buried in a heap of lies. She needed to teach the public something. There was some lesson the American population was always forgetting.

Gloria knew exactly what it was. _You gotta know the enemy,_ she thought.


	3. knowing the enemy

Christian had his swarm of future outlaws and junkies. When Jesus of Suburbia came, surrounded by all his disciples, the street was a sea of tattoos, piercings, neon-dyed hair, and black denim.

Jesus of Suburbia looked through his backpack which was full of spray paint (nobody knew how he got it, it was probably stolen). But what he pulled out wasn't spray paint, it was an air-horn. He kicked over a trash bin and stood on it.

"Hey dumb-asses," he yelled, "We're here to reign mass chaos and destruction on all the bastards who screwed up our lives for their own entertainment. We are not to be fucked with. And hell, all the anger has to go somewhere, so destroy anything you can get your hands on! RIOT!!" and he blared the goddamn air horn.

About a fourth of the followers started grabbing for a can of spray paint. Some took out blunt instruments and bashed the hell out of whatever was in their reach. Others started bonfires in trash cans with paper, lighters and aerosol.

In the background Christian faintly heard marching, chanting and guitar music. _Oh shit,_ Christian thought, _someone's getting shot._ He knew how people would start bitching if there were protesters and a riot. The non-participants would get pissed to the point they would shoot. The bullets were almost always aimed for the protesters because the rioters were armed.

_They're all chickenshits, _he thought,_ can't stand up for anyone. Or too stupid, letting themselves get brainwashed._

Then he heard the gunshots ...and screams.

_Shit! People are dying because of me. It's all my fault! Dammit!_

----

Gloria heard the riot and knew what happened to protesters in this circumstance. _Oh well,_ she thought, _too late to turn back now._

She was finished giving out the picket signs and gave the guitars their cue.

They all started singing the song they spent all last night practicing

_Do you know the enemy?_

_Do you know your enemy?_

_Well gotta know the enemy_

_RIOT!_

_Violence is an energy_

_Against the enemy_

_Violence is an energy_

_RIOT!_

_Bringing on the fury_

_The choir infiltry_

_Revolt against the honor to obey_

_Overthrow the effigy_

_The vast majority_

_We'll burn it down_

_The foreman of control_

_Silence is the enemy_

_against you urgency_

_So rally up the demons of your soul_

_Silence is the enemy_

_From here to eternity_

_Violence is an energy_

_So give me give me revolution!_

The protesters (led by Gloria) sang their chant and marched carrying their anti-corruption signs. They got a lot of odd looks, as if the corruption didn't exist. _Go ahead and stare,_ Gloria thought,_ we're protecting this country's sanity while you're standing at the sidelines, watching it dissolve._

They were just about to pass a church when three men in their Sunday-best stopped them.

"Please, your shouting is disrupting our prayers. We'd appreciate it if you would all go home," one of them asked.

When Gloria saw the gun in his hand she shouted, "RUN! EVERYBODY GO! HE HAS A GUN!"

Gloria gathered the youngest five and pushed into an alley. She heard gunshots and screaming. "Stay here," she ordered and went to save more. She brought two who were shot in the shins into the alley. She left to see if there were anymore wounded. Instead she saw about twenty corpses. She wanted to break down and cry, but she had to be brave. She looked around for the fanatics. They weren't there anymore. _Probably telling the 911 operator lies about the protesters,_ she thought bitterly.

"Gloria, what now?" one of the protesters asked.

"Those freaks aren't out there anymore, head to H.Q.," Gloria answered.

"You coming?" one of the wounded asked

"I'll catch up later," she said.

The survivors were making their way to the Underground Headquarters. Gloria sunk into a corner and started to cry.


	4. life of Gloria's

The riot lasted for six and a half hours til the crowd settled. There was tons of graffiti, bashed street lights, scars on the grass from where it was burned, and broken booze bottles as far as the eye could see.

Christian felt his pockets and realized he left his wallet in the alley. _Idiot, fucking idiot!_, he scolded himself. He ran back to the alley and found a crying girl there. When she wiped her tears away he saw she was perhaps the most freaking beautiful girl he ever laid eyes on.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked up to his love-struck face and answered, "No, I'm not. Some of my best friends died today and it's all my fault."

Christian saw a picket sign cast away. "No, it was mine. I shouldn't have started that riot. You don't deserve this grief, I do. Someone _I_ knew should've died, not your friends. At least you were fighting for something, I was just angry."

He sank down so that he was sitting beside her. Putting his arm around her he continued, "don't cry, please. I'm already the cause of so much misery. I don't wanna be the reason for the most flawless girl in California's tears." _did I just call her the most flawless girl in California?_, he asked himself. The girl started to smile. _Yes I did._

"What's your name?" the girl asked.

"Christian. Yours?"

"Gloria."

"Gloria, please don't hurt yourself. Keep from losing your sight of beauty. I know that we can't keep our innocence forever, I have the scars to prove it." he pulled his sleeve up and she saw his attempted-suicide scars. "Please keep your faith in humanity, you can destroy the corruption. The entire population has been waiting for someone like you. The fight of your life is a war and you will win. You will. Someday."

"Thank you Christian. I'll remember you forever," Gloria said, "I just need time to recover."

Christian helped her to her feet and just stared at her; her pretty face, her messy pony tail, her slim figure dressed in a t-shirt, a mini-skirt, and high-heeled boots. Was she even mortal? She looked like a goddess to him.

He was tempted to kiss her but couldn't find the courage. _ CHICKENSHIT!,_ he scolded himself. _You can't even kiss a girl!_ And just then Gloria clutched his jacket, pulled him close and kissed him on the lips. "Now I _can't_ forget you," she whispered in his ear.

A few weeks went by and Christian hadn't seen Gloria. He did see the graffiti in their alley though, it was just like the rest of the new graffiti, it said _**The Underground will be avenged**_, _**GLORIA**_ .

He went to the Underground Headquarters and asked for Gloria.

"How do we know your not a cop?" the guard asked.

"Ask Gloria about Christian and the alley."

The guard opened the door and let Christian in. Christian found his way to Gloria's apartment.

"Gloria, I gotta talk to you."

"Yes? what is it?"

"What did you become? I saw the graffiti all over everywhere. You're not the innocent girl I met in the alley. You're destroying your soul so much it might as well be falling on broken glass."

"Shut the hell up! You've never lost, you've never even had someone you loved like family!" Gloria screamed, as she did Christian saw a scar on her cheek parallel to her jaw.

He stroked the scar, "Have you been getting in fights?" he asked.

"A hell of a lot you care!" she yelled.

"I do care. Please don't make your best memories the times it didn't leave a scar. Please. You don't have to live in the ruins of what you couldn't save. You're still very young, you don't need to lose your innocence. You don't have to be self-destructive, you're better than that. Why did you even go to self-destruction anyway?" Christian asked, trying to unravel the mystery named Gloria.

"I wanted to be the perfect role-model that everyone looked up to. But I can't be perfect! It was all because of my damned pride that twenty people got shot. _I_ let that happen!"

"You don't have to be perfect. Nobody's expecting you to be. Gloria, you're the saint of all the sinners and yet the one who's getting all the crap. Don't give in, Gloria, don't let your light go out! So what if you lose the battle? You'll win the war and then everyone will be free. don't give up now. Please Gloria you're the first person to make me feel hopeful."

"I am?" Gloria asked. "You lived your entire life without hope?"

"I never had a reason to hope," Christian confessed. "If it was bad, it would happen. If it was good, there was no way in hell it would happen to me."

"Without hope? That sounds painful."

"That was my life, what was your life like?"

"Tell you in the morning, I'm tired. There's an empty room you can sleep in, unless you prefer that alley."


	5. lobotomized freak

Gloria woke up to Christian sitting on her bed and looking at her lovingly.

"What the hell Christian?" she demanded sleepily

"Sorry, you're very peaceful in your sleep...and you smile." His puppy-like eyes were twinkling.

"Aren't you gonna tell me your life story today?"

"Let me get dressed first," all she was wearing was a big shirt and a robe.

Christian immediately stood up. "Right, sorry." he got up and stepped out of the apartment sitting right next to the door while he waited. He pulled a razor out of his pocket and started to scratch something in the wall.

Gloria kicked the covers off. She pulled her jeans on and replaced her oversized shirt with an appropriately sized one. After fastening her pony tail with a rubber band, she put her mascara on and then her orange-red lipstick.

When she came out of her apartment she saw Christian scratching something in the wall. It looked like it said _Christian loves Gloria._

He looked up at her with his puppy-like eyes. In them Gloria saw he wasn't going to admit to anything. She liked that about him.

"Have you ever had a reoccurring dream?" she asked.

"None that I can remember. Why?"

"Well, I keep having this dream with my parents then I hear a choir and thunder and the rain washed it all away."

"What really happened to your parents? Did they die?"

"Yes, they did. They were protesters and they got shot. After that I got kinda apathetic and I felt the same after that _shooting--_" her voice broke at this point "--the other day. All I felt was anger and apathey. I wanted to get a lobotomy."

"A lobotomy? As in the surgery?" he asked concerned. She shone so brightly because she felt things. He didnt want itj all to go away.

"Maybe not the actual _surgery_, but something like it. All I could feel was anger, bitterness, and apathey. I wanted it all to go away. You basically slapped me in the face when I was in hysterics," she looked at Christian so he could see her greatful face. "Sometimes I think about how i'll die and hope it's during a protest by a bullet in the back of my head. I'm going _someday_, I might as well go like Mom and Dad." she looked proud, like she was ready to face that death any moment.

"I'd find a way to stop any part of the corruption before they hurt _you_. Not only because you're the only one who can save the world from the apocalypse, but also because I _hate_ people like them. They made me wanna swallow my first pills. I've thrown rocks and bricks at those bastards who constantly overeact about everything because they expect us to treat our dreams like shit!" Christian knew his emotions were catching up to him. He was one of those people that Gloria wasnt. She chose to feel things and he chose not to because it hurt. He popped some pills (five?) and felt perfectly normal.

"Okay, give me the pills," Gloria demanded. He reluctantly tossed her the orange plastic jar. "Do you even understand what you're doing? You're buying this government bull shit! They tell you that you can control yourself and be normal. You're just making yourself numb! You dont have to be ashamed if you remember anything bad about your past. And you dont have to be ashamed because you're angry or depressed or elated, it's what makes you human."

_She's right_, he thought. Christian felt another spring of hope when he reallized she was trying her absolute hardest to help him. She saw him not as an outsider, not as a junkie, but as an actual _person_. He had to show his gratitude... _somehow_.

"Gloria, have you ever heard of the Jesus of Suburbia?"


	6. la casa de Christian's hell

"Who the hell is Jesus of Suburbia?" Gloria asked.

"He's the savior, as well as the dealer, of a lot of runaway kids. A cop tried bringing him in, but Jesus, that resourceful son of a bitch, zapped the cop with a tazor meant for outlaws. Since he made such clever escape there's a party on some fucked up street. Wanna come?" Christian asked.

"Well, it sounds like a lot of drinking, smoking pot, breaking into pharmacies...I don't think James would mind."

"James being...?"

"He's our leader. We ask him for advice when we don't know what to do. We ask his guidance when we're lost. He hates the corruption just like us. He's what's slowly destroying it, brick by brick."

"He hates the corruption or just the authorities?"

"Well, all the authorities by know _are_ the corruption so I don't see the difference. Why do you ask?"

"Because Jesus told me he had a friend who could vandalize the shit out of anything. He said the guy's name was Jimmy, as in James. And this guy, Jimmy had all these addictions; he was a pothead, a smoker, a drinker, a junkie and everything in between. But he never said a leader. Jimmy was always independent, you know, an outcast. He didn't like to be depended on. He hated the world," Christian explained.

"James is proud to call himself our leader. And besides, James is a common name. I don't think they're the same person," Gloria concluded.

"So, you wanna come?"

"Tell me your story first."

"Okay, well, when I was little I tried to take control of as much as I could. I would try to tell people what I thought, but nobody would listen. I was rejected from almost everything. The only people who welcomed me were potheads and junkies--" Christian suddenly shut up.

"What's wrong? Is everything all right?" Gloria asked.

"It's just a memory I'll never forget, but at least Johnny won't _truly_ die."

"What happened?"

"Johnny was a junkie. He got me to come with him to break into a pharmacy. He tossed me this jar of pills and we heard a noise. He told me to 'Take the damn pills and run.' but I was scared. He kept telling me to run but I couldn't. Then he got shot. I _did_ run that time. I ran as far as I could, as fast as I could and in loving memory of Johnny I swallowed a handful of pills. That was the first time I saw someone get killed," Christian stopped talking before his voice could crack.

"That's harsh, but it could always be worse," Gloria told him sympathetically, "at least you're passing the memory of him around. He'll _never _die while _you're_ alive and kicking. What about your mom and dad?" Gloria asked.

"I was afraid to tell them I was getting into pot and cocaine so I decided to run away. I had to live on the streets because, well, it was either _that_ or submit to the charlatan fanatics," he said mockingly with a fake shudder. "At one point, I actually cut myself. The _fire_ in my veins poured out like a flood."

"Anything else?"

"Well, back to those charlatan fanatics, they said I was so evil it would be a lie to say I'm kind as a demon. What else? Oh yeah, my parents, total shit-heads, called me 'Catastrophe' because whenever I was around something bad happened. Some kids look up to me and call me their 'chosen one' but in all actuality I'm more like an atom bomb. I'll destroy myself and all those around me. Poor bastards, they don't see the poison in their water. They're all gonna die because they only see what they wanna see."

"Yeah, at least they trust you. James says he knows he's trusted and he's able to help all the mindless zombies, blind followers, and American idiots because they trust him. He can free all the future lobotomized freaks from the corruption and those charlatan fanatics."

Christian didn't respond. Gloria was talking about this James character a lot. He looked in her eyes, there was a certain softness about them. It was as if they were still trying to hold her innocence. She seemed so, so, so _perfect._ As far as he could see, she was absolutely flawless. He remembered that he was thinking about James and felt almost envious.

"How much do you think James likes you?" Christian asked nervously.

"Christian, are you jealous?" Gloria asked, trying to suppress her giggles and laughter.

_"No!"_ though he started getting red in the face.

"Hm-hm, James is basically our older brother. We look up to him and he protects us from corruption and charlatan fanatics."

"Oh, okay, so that party's tomorrow wanna come?"

"Of course, as long as _you'll _be there."


	7. first night in heaven

Christian couldn't take it. He had to see Gloria. After sneaking into her apartment he sat on her bed and watched her sleep.

She was so peaceful, so innocent and very beautiful. He stroked her hair, her moonlit hair, and felt his heart almost explode.

_She'll never fall for you,_ a small nagging voice (his common sense maybe?) told him, _just look at her. So sweet and perfect. Then you... Popping pills since age thirteen, smoking marijuana and doing cocaine since age fourteen, and not to mention all those incidents from the shots of whiskey...._

_Shut the fuck up!_, he told the voice, _she cares about me._

"I love you," Christian whispered in Gloria's ear. Gloria started to smile and almost whispered _Christian._

He felt himself getting warm on the inside. "I love you and I always will. You deserve better than _me_. I'll try to be better. I'll stand beside you through whatever you need me to, and I don't care what I lose as long as it isn't you. You are my love, my reason to go on." He took her unconscious hand and placed it over his heart so she could feel it beating. "It belongs to you, I swear. It has since the day I met you. I promise to be faithful loving, I promise to feel. Please hear this, no one could ever replace you, you're too precious."

He was no longer too chickenshit to kiss her and he kissed her on the cheek to prove it. She smiled a little more.

"If only you were awake," he whispered.

He walked to the door and looked at her one more time that night. "So beautiful," he mumbled and left her apartment.

When he was gone Gloria sat up in bed. _How sweet of him _, she thought. She fell asleep and smiled the whole night.


	8. east of Jesus's nowhere

The party was on the street that Jesus of Suburbia destroyed and under the bridge. There was a lot of illegal stuff; not just the wide variety of multiple whiskeys, vodkas, and miscellaneous booze for underage drinkers; but also heroin, cocaine, and a shitload of marijuana.

The first people Christian and Gloria met with were Jesus and some chick with her arm loosely hooked around his neck. The lady Jesus was with had so much silver eye shadow that her eyelids looked like metal. She had a smug (and somewhat drunk) swagger to her steps that made her look absolutely shameless. She could've just killed someone or slept with a guy and when she saw them she yelled out "Hello. I am Jesus' official drunk bitch-of-a-girlfriend and I come here for the heroin!" Gloria then came into her drunk view. "Hey, you're really pretty and stuff," said the "drunk bitch-of-a-girlfriend" remembering her manners. "And I bet your boyfriend doesn't forget your name and talk shit about you behind your back!" her anger was pointed toward Jesus, "I think I'm getting jealous."

Immediately, Gloria explained. "He's not my boyfriend," and disappointed Christian mumbled in agreement, "I'm not her boyfriend."

But the lady who claimed to be Jesus' girlfriend yelled out in a drunk, obnoxious voice, "Nah, you like him and he likes you. A whole fuckin' lot, too."

"Hey sweetie," Jesus started, putting his lit cigarette in her mouth, "no one wants to smell that at the bar."

She spit the damned thing out of her mouth. "I didn't smoke that!" she yelled indignantly.

He gingerly put the cigarette back in her mouth, "Well you are now. Get the hell out!"

"Asshole," she mumbled angrily.

"Well, nice that you met her. I think she likes you," as Jesus spoke he caught sight of Gloria. "And who is this?" he started to brush locks of hair out of her eyes. "She's pretty."

Gloria didn't really like the Jesus of Suburbia. He strongly smelled of marijuana and cocaine and he had an expectant air. He was shorter than Christian by two or three inches with black hair that stood up like a frightened cat. And she didn't like the way he was looking at her, either.

"Oh, sorry. I should probably stop touching your girlfriend." he apologized.

Gloria didn't mind if Jesus of Suburbia thought that, as long as it kept his pot scented paws away from her face.

Christian put his arm around her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable in this position. You're not submitting, she told herself, you're making it believable. After a while of being affectionately close to Christian she actually liked the feeling. She didn't want it to stop.

Jesus broke from the group to find his girlfriend (muttering something about heroin as he left), so Christian and Gloria were alone.

"You want me to let go of you now?" Christian asked.

As a response, Gloria kissed him on the cheek. "That would mean no," she told him.

He looked at her with a surprised and awkward smile. It felt like a fifth-grade crush. His green puppy-like eyes twinkled and Gloria couldn't help smiling her own affectionate smile. That moment seemed so perfect...

And then they heard something catch fire.

----

It was a church that caught fire. On the lawn men were restraining screaming mothers. The obvious leader was yelling, "We live in a world where we are the only righteous people on earth. The non-believers plant seeds of doubt in young minds that don't know any better. Children that die are innocent and will immediately go to Heaven. Don't you see? If they don't die as children they'll go to Hell! We have to save the children now or they will become non-believers themselves."

After finishing his speech he ordered that the twenty or so children be left in the burning church.

"Filthy charlatans!" Gloria spat out in a whisper, "Christian, stay here. Don't go into the burning church. If I don't come out, well," she kissed him on the lips, "I love you. Don't become a lobotomized freak. I died a noble death." with that she secretly charged into the building. Three minutes after she came out holding a baby and dragging six other kids. She gave Christian the baby and told him to calm the kids down. Christian looked at the baby, then the other kids and saw all their helpless faces.

Gloria had saved all the children by the time he was out of his trance. She called the Underground and told them they would be getting new members. Young new members.

Meanwhile Christian was lost in a sea of helpless expressions, and drowning in it


	9. making peace and death

Eventually (after Gloria explained the whole burning church thing) these heroes returned to the party without so much as a "where the hell have you been?"

Jesus was dragging his girlfriend who was kicking and yelling "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, YOU BASTARD!"

"That's right, honey," he said sarcastically, "keep yelling. Don't worry, I know you're still horny." she elbowed, scratched and screamed in his ear. He eventually dragged her into a car. "I was only shitting you about being horny. Stop doing my heroin before I stop caring if you get hurt."

"When did you start, asshole?" she asked in one of those _I demand an answer_ tones. "I got slapped so hard my mouth started bleeding. I came crawling to you and you just told me to have a beer. And when I spit out blood you started laughing. I hated you for that."

"Well, you shouldn't have got in the situation."

"And that one time you thought it would be funny to give that red-headed slut _my_ tampons and _my_ PMS pills. I had to use those huge Band-Aids. And while I had Band-Aids in my pants, feeling like shit, you were screwing her brains out in the 7-11!"

"Ah, memories," he turned and Gloria could see a faint hand-shaped imprint covering the left side of his face. _Serves him right_, she thought.

----

What Christian and Gloria didn't know was that the charlatan fanatics planned to take the Underground H.Q. under siege until they submit to the religion.

They marched with guns in their hands and were prepared to kill. If they were going to kill they wanted the rebels' leader; the one named James.

This was for their God. The one who said these rebels brought disgrace to an otherwise perfect race. They followed their ultimate leader. He sent twenty children to Heaven and he was going to send this unholy, sinful army to Hell.

The rebellion had to be stopped. They sinned in every way possible, even losing their virginity to random strangers. Those hot-headed losers thought they would never get caught. They thought the "righteous and the meek" could never destroy them. They were wrong.

This puny rebellion would be destroyed. Along with all the joy. The Underground would submit or starve to death. simple as that. The charlatan fanatics would not look at them as if they were people, they were demon spawn and should be treated thusly. Death to anyone who stood in their way.

Moletev cocktails would soon destroy the entire building. No one would make it out alive. They would all go to Hell from whence they came.

They lined up to surround the building of apartments, offices, and rebels.

All of these rebels would soon be truly underground. A holy massacre it would be. One to be respected by even Saint Valentine.

They all stared singing one of their church songs in perfect unison. There was a perfect silence.

Then shooting. The sound of it was almost unbearable. There were people screaming in fear. The Underground dug up their stash of guns and fired back. They all heard a terrible scream.

It was one of the children rescued from the church. The kid was shot in the arm. He was bleeding by the quart it seemed.

Gloria would be devastated if she knew.


	10. the truly american girl

In all actuality Jesus of Suburbia was pretty drunk and stoned when he saw Gloria at the party again. _She looks like some sorta dark angel down here_, he thought, _angel, pretty angel._

Then he remembered. _Ah shit! She has a boyfriend, that guy from the riot on the boulevard. But the girl is so pretty! it ain't fair. _

He made his way to the couple, and, in his drunkenness, spilled the words out of his mouth. "Hey! Your girlfriend is kinda sexy."

"I think you had a little to much of... well, everything," Christian observed. "Gloria, you might get offended and it won't be his fault. It's the substances he's been abusing."

"Seriously though, she's hot enough to be a _very_ successful hooker. And don't take offence to this, but if she _was_ a hooker I'd pay for her no matter how much she charged," Jesus scanned her as if she were wearing something really skimpy and holding a metal pole.

Christian was _very_ offended by this, "How the hell do you expect me not to take offence to that? You're calling my girlfriend a whore!"

"A _potential _whore," Jesus corrected, "and I don't take offence to it whenever someone tells me that."

"I'm leaving the area. I absolutely _hate_ it when people talk about me like I'm not here," Gloria butted in and left.

It wasn't long before she found Jesus of Suburbia's girlfriend.

"So, did the junkies scare you? Or was it the potheads?" she asked Gloria.

"Your boyfriend was just being an asshole," Gloria answered.

"Well, that's what he does best. That and..." she trailed off, stuck in a memory, "I bet he still has those photos...."

"Do I really wanna know what that's supposed to mean?"

"We lost our virginity, well, at least, I know _I _did. And the whole time he had his camera and took pictures of the whole thing. As far as I know, he's the only one who saw them. What guy would want other people, other _guys_ in fact, to see naked pictures of his girlfriend?" and silence hung in the air. "So, when did you?"

"Huh?"

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"I never did," Gloria admitted. "Personal choice, no one's forcing me to. Waiting for the right guy, you know?"

"Could that guy who _obviously _loves you be 'the right guy'?"

"Well, Christian's sweet. He acts like I'm a goddess and he is not worthy to be in my presence. He helped me when I needed it most. I guess he could be...." Gloria mumbled, starting to get red in the face. And then she remembered something. "Jesus cant remember your name?"

"No, he can't. So he calls me _Whatsername_. Well, it's better than the other pet-names he gave me. _Barbie _and _Bubblegum_ and stuff like that."

Meanwhile, Christian was pouring insults on Jesus of Suburbia, "You said Gloria could be a prostitute! How could you? She's better than that! She doesn't even look like one."

"All I'm saying is that you girlfriend is freakin hot. In California it's kinda a compliment," Jesus explained as if Christian was a retard.

"She's so _beautiful_. She really deserves better than me. She's not like the other girls. She's fighting for what she believes in. She has all these theories about the corruption. She knows what she's up against and she is absolutely unique," he couldn't help smiling at the thought of her.

"Well she's like my girlfriend in that rebellious way," Jesus couldn't help butt in.

"What _is_ her name anyway?" Christian asked.

"I dunno, she won't tell me. It started with a d, I remember that."

"That's messed up, you can't even remember her name?"

"Change the subject before I get real pissed off at you. What were you saying about Gloria?"

"Well, she's prepared for anything, even a nuclear winter. She constantly looks like she's escaping something. She's willing to starve for the kids whose ribs are showing. She isn't afraid to get her hands dirty and support herself. She's this outcast because she _wants_ to be. Se _will_ fight for the better of everyone. She's just..._perfect_," Christian smiled his loving smiled.

He started to think about Gloria. _She plays her music the day before the apocalypse. She thinks anyone can keep their innocence, even _me_. She'll survive the apocalypse and help anyone who needs it. She is a war, fighting for the unheard voices. A hurricane destroying the corruption. _

"Well, she doesn't _sound_ like a prostitute," Jesus of Suburbia concluded.

And they laughed.

----

Hours ticked by and it was getting dark. Whatsername fell asleep on the hood of Jesus of Suburbia's car. They were kissing until she passed out.

Jesus scanned her as if she were a statue and he was checking for authenticity. _They're real_, he joked to himself. "Better get her home or her folks will track me down," he told Christian and Gloria, "It's eleven-thirty, you might wanna go home too." with that, Jesus of Suburbia piled Whatsername in his car and drove away.

"I think he's right, Gloria. You wanna go?"

"Yeah, I hope nothing _too_ exciting happened while we were gone."

Ironic.


	11. murder in the city

"Holy shit!" was Gloria's first reaction when she saw the scene before her. She barely had enough time to push herself and Christian behind a building wall. "You got your gun?" she asked

"Yeah, why?" he asked holding it out.

Gloria snatched the gun out of his hand. "Because I need it," she whispered. "Stay hidden."

She stepped out of the sanctuary and turned to face Christian. "If I don't make it back, I love you and I'm sorry about your gun," she told him. She made her way through the charlatan fanatics.

Though only seven minutes at most, it seemed to be hours to Christian until Gloria came back. "Follow close," she said and handed him a different gun, "shoot only if you need to."

And with that, Gloria took Christian by the hand and they made their way through the crowd with only five casualties on the other side. They got to the H.Q. in time to see James getting shot.

"_NO!_" Gloria screamed and the tears began to flow. "_this can't be happening!_" She rushed over to him screaming under her sobs, "James, no, don't die! You're gonna live through this!"

"Gloria Nesser, is that you?" James asked.

"Yeah it's me James. Where did the bullet hit? I'm gonna help."

"Gloria, who's next to you?"

"His name is Christian."

"Christian," James addressed him, "do you know the Jesus of Suburbia?"

"Yeah," Christian told the dying young man. "Why?"

"Tell him something for me. Tell him I'm sorry for leaving the fake suicide note. I'm sorry for making him think I left forever. You have no idea how serious faking a death is until you're actually dying." James turned to face Gloria. "Is he nice, this kid named Christian?"

"Why?" Gloria asked.

James smiled a somewhat grim smile. "Because," he started, making it dramatic, "I approve."

Gloria was eventually able to take the bullet out of James' side and patch up the wound. But it wouldn't stop bleeding. James knew this was his last hour (or maybe even last _half_ hour). "Gloria please make sure I'm remembered as Jimmy. I'm tired of trying to forget what used to be."

"You're _not_ gonna die. You _will _live through this," Gloria told him. A crowd burst into the room to see what the hell was going on.

Gloria was about to order them away but James spoke first, "Good, I need witnesses for this." he ripped the gold signet ring from his finger. The first members of the Underground had this ring. It was beautifully golden and had a broken pair of shackles as the signet. James placed the ring in Gloria's hand. "It's your turn now. You're the leader. Be fair and just and lead the Underground to victory. I believe in you," he mumbled to her. By now, his head was cradled in Gloria's lap and her tears were falling on his face. She didn't want the ring and tried to put it back on his finger (which would have easier if he hadn't clenched his fists so hard).

"James, no, it's not mine. You're gonna make it."

"Don't count on it," he mumbled and threaded part of Gloria's ponytail through the ring like a shoelace through an eyelet.

"Don't go, please," she begged. Christian stood next to Gloria, afraid to look in James' eyes. It all felt like it was his fault. Had Gloria not been gone, James wouldn't have gotten shot.

"See you in Al Aarraf, kid," he murmured with a smile.

He drew a breath.

And then he died.


	12. all your fault little girl

All Gloria could do was cry. Christian tried to comfort her but before he could, she looked up at the crowd. "You heard Jimmy," she spoke with a commanding yet trembling voice, "now get back to your posts."

"Gloria, I'm sorry for this. It's _my_ fault James--"

"_Jimmy_. He wanted to be remembered as Jimmy," she told him.

"Well, I shouldn't have took you to that party. It's all my fault your leader is dead. I'm sorry. How can I help?"

"Get a gun and kill as many fanatics as you can. That would help."

He thought about comforting her but decided she'd feel better if she was left alone.

The fanatics eventually gave up and retreated.

"Well _that_ took long enough!" one of the members of the Underground complained, "and no thanks to _her majesty_ who is busy crying for something that's all her fault!"

Christian couldn't stand people talking about Gloria that way. "How could you say it was her fault? Did _she _cause that fanatic siege?"

"What would you know? All you are is a junkie with a gun fighting to impress your girlfriend. That doesn't make you a saint." another member of the Underground attacked.

"She was just gone while something that had _nothing_ to do with her happened. That doesn't make her a charlatan." he defended. _I'm really to blame_, he wished he could say but the words stuck in his mouth

Gloria stepped out of the room. "When do you suggest we give Jimmy a proper burial?" she asked.

"What would you care? You don't deserve to cry," one member of the Underground attacked.

"Yeah," another chimed in, "What happened to your soul? Do you still have a heart? If you wanna join James--"

"_JIMMY!_ He wanted to be remembered as Jimmy!" Gloria screamed.

"fine then, if you wanna join _Jimmy_ there are plenty of razor blades. Feel free to open your veins at any time."

They all started to cackle up in agreement. "honestly, how could you abandon us? I guess the sky _is_ falling now. What's wrong? Your lifeboat of deception sailed away?"

Gloria wished she could just run away from all this hatred. It wasn't _her _fault. The fanatics would have attacked anyway. She started to remember the church kids she helped.

"where are those kids I saved from the burning church?" she asked

"Why? You wanna preach to the choir kids?" another member spat out. "there all getting patched up. All except that baby. Maybe if you were here they wouldn't be running around getting shot."

"SHUT UP! You were just quivering behind a gun and quite frankly, I didn't see you shoot anyone," she defended herself.

"Strong words for a deserter," yet another member commented.

This went on for a while until Gloria got real tired and crawled off to bed.

eventually, Gloria fell asleep. Christian placed a note and a small jar of pills under her pillow and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you Gloria," he whispered to the sleeping girl. "I _know_ you deserve better than me. I already caused you so much grief, please don't suffer anymore. I'll make sure you don't."

Gloria knew where she was. She was in the broken land of the insecure. She was crying as she tried to find her way back. Her mascara tears were dripping and so was blood from her side. She held her side and walked on. She tried to find a way to some place familiar. Every step she took felt like she was walking on blisters and sheers were stabbing into her feet. She ended up crawling till she found the Underground Headquarters and when she finally got there the members looked at her.

"Shame. She was so promising, too," complained one and aimed a gun to her head, "Sorry Gloria, nothing personal, just gotta do what's best."

And Gloria was shot in the head.

Then she woke up.

She lay back down and felt something under her pillow. She dug under it and felt a small plastic jar and a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the paper and read the writing.

The note read:

"Gloria,

I'm sorry I left. I didn't know what else to do. I screwed up your life enough, I don't wanna cause any more. I really love you, you treat me like an actual person. I don't deserve you, you're too good for me.

Christian"

_He left_, she thought. She looked at the jar. It was holding anti-depressants. Christian wrote a note on the label. "I'm sorry if this is offensive, but I thought they would help."

She wouldn't take the pills. She wouldn't be a lobotomized freak again.


	13. illness of a broken heart

It was raining very hard and Christian didn't wanna get his pills wet so he looked for shelter.

He went into an alley and saw something familiar. In black spray paint "_**Gloria**_" was written. The rest of the message was fading. Christian looked at it and started to feel horrible. "Never forget," he mumbled to himself.

He shook the jar of pills he was carrying. Nothing left.

_Dammit_, he thought. He had to break into a pharmacy. He took a brick and looked for one close.

He found some random pharmacy and broke in. When he got the pills he wondered why he was doing this. _I got some kinda disease_, he decided, _my whole life is a disease. It's terrible and painful and it doesn't get better. Why is there this pain and void without these goddamn pills?_

He hated himself for letting this happen. _Why didn't I take my gun before I left? At least then I could blast my brains out!_, he thought. He wanted to forget everything.

_Pills, wonderful pills!_, Christian thought sarcastically and swallowed a mere amount of two. He was trying to be smart and save them, the cops were faster now and better with a gun. He really hated this side of himself; his junkie side. He always wanted to run away from it but, Lord knows no matter how hard he tried to get away, he couldn't.

He had to get back to the alley before the cops came. When you live a life on the street you need to be on your toes. You never know what could be waiting to kill you out there. And oh, the meds out there that could kill you! Stepping out of sanctuary is a matter of life and death. You could kill yourself without knowing it.

Anti-depressants, alcohol, cocaine, they all cured the same thing; a broken heart. A broken heart and insecurity. Christian knew this as well as he knew what he endured. He didn't know why, but all of the sudden he started feeling cocky.

And then it was gone. Instead of the good, gloat-able feeling he had, he felt even more insecurity and masochist. He remembered Gloria and hoped she was doing better than he was. He felt terrible that he screwed up her life as much as he did.

_I'm sorry, Gloria your life would be much better if I didn't have one_, he thought, _but I'm gonna make it better._

Christian didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go. He wanted to die. And then his mind went dead and he followed his feet. He found himself on the boulevard. It hadn't been cleaned up and scars from the riot were still there.

He lay down on the street and closed his eyes hoping he wouldn't need to open them again. Christian was woken up with a bitch slap to the face and "Wake up, dumb-ass" in a familiar voice. Jesus of Suburbia came to save him.

"Where am I?" Christian asked. He couldn't remember much more than names of friends and the person who died.

"Welcome to the Boulevard of Broken Dreams!" Jesus mockingly introduced the hell-hole. "I hated this place. Junkies would overdose and crawl here to die. People with real shitty lives brought a gun with one bullet and blasted their brains out here. Suicide pacts were started and fulfilled here. It's been that way for five years and people finally started to clean up the blood, heroin needles and such. I still look for people who are trying to die here. I guess that's why the riot had to start here." he paused before continuing. "This is where I found Jimmy's suicide note and a huge puddle of blood but some bastard took his gun! All I had left of probably my only friend and it was fucking stolen!"

_Jimmy_. The name sounded familiar. _JIMMY! How could I forget? That poor bastard asked me to tell Jesus about him_, Christian's memory came in like a flood.

"Jesus?" Christian started, not sure if chickening out was such a bad idea.

"What is it?"

"Jimmy didn't kill himself," he had to get the words out quickly. "He faked his death and became the leader of this group of people called the Underground and called himself James. He just died today," he took a drawing out of his pocket, he drew the carnage in hopes that it would be useful.

Jesus of Suburbia looked closely. The drawing wasn't that good but the dying guy as obviously Jimmy.


	14. horseshoes & heart shaped handgrenades

"So he's gone now. This is even worse than the first time. Why would he just... go?" Jesus of Suburbia lamented

"Maybe he wanted to be more than some icon of wrath and hate. Gloria was the one person who treated me like an actual _human_, not just an addict or a pothead. She was perfect; the saint, the angel, the guiding star, she deserves someone who can hope. Someone who still has his innocence," Christian knew what he was doing. He was wish he could be the perfect boyfriend, wishing he could be worthy of her.

"Least you still got a photo of her," Jesus commented.

"Photo?"

"I know people." he tossed the photo to Christian. "I was gonna keep it for myself. Looks like you need it more."

Christian looked at it. Gloria was smiling and his arm was around her. _I'm sorry_, he told the photo, _I'm sorry I screwed up your life. If I was never born you could live a happy life._

He noticed he was folded over in it. _Well, at least things are right now._

"_Whatsername!_" Jesus called.

"Whaddya want?" she demanded. "I'm in your car, you know, for obvious reasons."

Christian never thought about Gloria that way before. She just wasn't that kinda girl. But he thought about it now. What would it be like? Him and her that close... she would be soft and warm and maybe even fragile. Her hair would be sticking to her forehead and he would feel the skin on her back.

Powerful thoughts.

"Oh, how sweet of you!" Jesus of Suburbia called back to his undressed girlfriend. "Be there in a sec." he looked at Christian. "Gotta go screw her, catch you later."

"Your best friend just died and you just wanna fuck your girlfriend?" Christian asked, curious and disgusted at the same time.

"Everyone has their own way to deal with grief. My first stage, sex in my car."

Christian rolled his eyes and made his way under the bridge. Maybe things would make sense there.

Someone offered him a drink. There were a lot of bottles of whiskey....

He did this before and new how it worked. Everyone was circled around him and was yelling "Go! Go! Go! Go!" There was a bottle of whiskey in his hand. _Ah, what the hell?_, he decided and downed the entire bottle.

The crowd cheered him on and once more, he felt accepted. Maybe not loved but accepted.

He smoked some pot, popped some pills, downed another gallon of whiskey and was destroying himself, inside and out.

They all cheered for him, being a such destructive bastard like that.

"I am the evil those charlatan fanatics preach against!" he yelled in his drunk voice. "and, you know something? I am _not_ fucking around with this, I mean it. I will march out in the first line and take down all those liars and cheats for _GLORIA NESSER, _the last of the bleeders!"

He was really screwed up inside. _I love you GLORIA NESSER!_, he wanted to shout. The pills weren't taking affect yet. _And why should they?_, he thought, _I don't need to get fucked or kicked around by something that doesn't even work! Hey Gloria, missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!_

He wished she would. _But I'm not worth it_, he reminded himself. _She got so close to saving James--no--Jimmy, but in the end it doesn't matter if you got close. If you don't succeed, you lose and that's it._

"You know something else? I say fuck all this corruption, in the government and religious freaks and this freaking war in the Middle East! Burn it to the ground! It's fuckin' all Bush's fault and _we_ all hafta pay for it! Destroy it all! Leave no evidence behind!" by now, Christian was standing on some armchair giving his speech like a beautiful girl he knew and loved. _Still love_, he corrected himself.

The disciples started mockingly throwing mini-bottles, bowing and grabbing at his ankles. He merely kicked them away, pulled out his gun and aimed it at their heads to show he wasn't joking. Someone pushed him from behind. All of the sudden, Christian was on the ground throwing his fists at his attackers.

For the most part his eyes were closed. When they weren't he swore he saw a beautiful girl in a short skirt, striped T-shirt, red jacket and high-heeled boots. There was concern on her face an she started running toward him. _Gloria?_, he thought, _it can't be...._

He pulled out his gun and with high, drunken aim he shot at the disciples without actually shooting _them_. The whole time he was yelling out "_GLORIA!"_

Eventually, our impaired hero passed out.


	15. era of static

"So, Jimmy's really gone now," Whatsername concluded, shoving her sweat-sticky fair locks out of her face.

"Yeah, he died today at the wrong end of a holy parasite's gun."

"Shame, he was so sweet too," she mumbled and felt around in the car for her shirt.

"I remember you used to call me Jimmy," he recalled and grabbed her by her waist to make sure she wouldn't try running from him.

"I wished you were Jimmy," Whatsername reminded him, pushing away and thinking about kicking.

"I wished I was him too," Jesus spilled out. "yeah he died but he died a martyr. Do you still wish I was him?"

"I dunno," she admitted as he loosened his grip considerably. "Do you think he was as good as you? At this?"

"Is that all I am to you?"

"As long as this is all I am to you, yes."

"Thanks for the honesty. You can be a real bitch but at least your not a bitch telling white lies."

"And you're an asshole but at least you're a charming asshole" and she couldn't help but kiss him.

Now let's return to our other heroes.

Christian didn't want to wake up but he did anyway. That beautiful face he saw and longed for the other night came into his hungover view. He _knew_ her. She cared for him and treated him like a person, not just a junkie. "Gloria?" he guessed.

And he guessed right. "Yeah, Christian. It's me." even if he wasn't looking right at her, her smile would've been obvious. "what were you thinking? Shooting that gun everywhere? And weren't you drunk _and_ high?" she asked with pure curiosity and no spite at all.

"I honestly don't know what I was thinking. Seeing you there must've made me lose total consciousness. And no, I wasn't _high_, I was _stoned_," _Oh, the things whiskey and marijuana will do to you!_, he thought.

Gloria stroked a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Try not to do that, or at least to the same extent, again. Please? Promise me."

"If it bothers you, never to that extent. Ever. I promise."

She smiled gloriously. Christian was pretty sure he could survive on it alone for at least a week. She brought him back to her apartment. On the way he saw the shiny, gold signet ring in her ponytail and remembered all the shit she was put through. _And I made her smile. _ I _did_, he thought. But later he remembered _I left her, I didn't stand up for her when she needed me to_.

By the time they got there, Christian absent-mindedly turned on the radio only to be slapped away by Gloria.

"I don't know about where you were, but here, it's über controlled," she explained. "_They_ practically own the only audible station here," she spat out, making it clear that by _they_ she meant those damn charlatans. "Anything _they_ don't like is blocked by static. They block it unless it suits them or their sick cause. I'd rather listen to static than whatever those _pigs_ have to say. Bastards."

"So, it has a load of ads for their faith and religion-friendly music?"

"_If _you can call that shit music. Giving false hopes that the world can be perfect, without this war in Iraq. As if saying a prayer will help anything," Gloria scoffed sarcastically. "its not just the radio, its also the TV., yeah its annoying but the protests against it ended a looooong time ago. Now it's just a bunch of whining."

She knew how sick and disgusting this form of propaganda was. It drove her completely insane. It was so pitiful that something so petty could get to her so easily. Even soda-pop ads were gone. Sending PSA's about how "the right thing" was giving your heart and soul to God and let _him_ choose what you do. Taking control like that. Disgusting.

_Why can't the protests start up against this again?_, Gloria thought.

Christian thought about it. "So they block the news don't they?" he asked.

"Yes, they block it with ads for anti-depressants that sorta thing. Pills you pop to make yourself _normal_," she didn't like the sound of it. She wanted to break free from it all-and bring Christian with her. Turn off all the retarded ads for retarded things. Listen to the beautiful punk rock she was used to. Breathe in the wonderful music and scream out her troubles to it. This horrible era of static had gone on long enough. Christian had reminded her of her hatred of it. He also reminded her of something very important.

She turned to him, "Christian," she started no longer angry but she wasn't smiling either, "I need your help. Jimmy needs to rest peacefully."


End file.
